Pherenike - Chapter 47

If the inequalities of the world were once sparked by a handful of barley and meat in a jar, then affection was born from favoritism towards certain children. This affection wandered among humans, cementing inequalities.

Whenever many children were born, some were always prettier, and others less so, breeding jealousy. Thus, long ago, like a parent favoring a child, the goddess would create some humans more noble from birth, watching over them like peacocks or cats in a courtyard. Yet, ironically, these noble beings often died helplessly at the hands of less comely humans.

Once, when Pherenike was a child alone and scared in a cave, the goddess visited her and told a story of a woman who had been torn to death without sin. She predated the legendary Heliodora, who was the most accomplished of Kybellaune.

This woman roamed the land, healing and enlightening many under the goddess’s guidance. Yet, she was dragged to the streets by the goddess’s own fanatics, her body cut and mangled to pieces, causing her to die a cruel death.

That was the last day of the great woman.

Some people viewed their devotion to God as if they were fighting over a lover in the streets. Why don’t you love me when I loved you so much? Why did you look at that person when I loved you so much more? Why did all the gods’ blessings seem to go to just one person?

This was unfair, they thought.

To them, divine blessings were like commodities to be bought in a market. Killing the woman was their way of rebelling against this unfairness, cutting a thorn of inequity. They couldn’t accept fate.

When they killed the goddess’s favorite, the goddess was angered and slaughtered them like mere meat. Yet, after her revenge, the woman she loved had already gone through seven times around the underworld river, becoming a denizen of Hades. The goddess’s lost affection brought her sorrow.

She wept for days by the Salonica river where the woman’s body was discarded, shrouded in mist as if in mourning. From then on, she made sure her beloved children were protected by bathing them nine times in the waters of Calyce, teaching them that light protected them.

As an immortal God, someone will always be special to her.

Ultimately, everyone is under fate, and life will always be unequal.

[“Does this mean no one will ever hate me?”]

[“Not at all. There’s no one who isn’t hated. And you, in particular, are destined to be disliked all your life. That’s how special you are.”]

[“That’s harsh.”]

[“But no jealousy or malice from others can penetrate your skin. I protect you from their hands.”]

[“…From others.”]

Pherenike quietly reflected on the goddess’s comfort, as Actor’s voice overlapped in her memory.

“In my opinion, to yourself, you seem no different from others.”

Lost for words momentarily, Actor spoke as he treated her hand again.

“Just as harmful to yourself as you are to others.”

“…”

“The goddess should have considered you as others.”

“What do you mean?”

“She should have protected you from yourself.”

Actor’s observation wasn’t just about a minor cut on her fingertip. As Pherenike searched for words, Actor noticed her lips. Suddenly, he continued in a deeply focused manner.

“Come to think of it, once you start biting that damned lip of yours, it swells and bleeds. Right?”

“…….”

“There were times I tasted blood in your mouth.”

“Actor. The handmaids are still here.”

“Actually, it was all painful, wasn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed gently as he stroked Pherenike’s lower lip, seemingly forgetting the usual formalities in front of the handmaids. This was the first time he had acted so openly in front of others.

“I think I saw bruises on your knees once.”

In the sanctuary, she neglected physical activities, and from a young age, she rarely wore short dresses except when hunting with Deucalion in Paetusa.

Excluding their childhood, Actor would have first seen her knees on their wedding night. Pherenike assumed he was referring to that night. He was usually quiet, but sometimes made her wonder how to silence him.

Then Actor suddenly smiled faintly.

“In the queen’s yard, you were chasing Deucalion. A long time ago.”

“…….”

“Deucalion was running away with your headband.”

Deucalion. His tone, when mentioning that uncomfortable name, was light, as if recalling a rather pleasant memory.

But the times he spoke of belonged to her and Deucalion alone.

Pherenike brushed past the mention of that name. She claimed not to remember any specific memory.

And it was true. With Deucalion, those endless chases of their naive, youthful days. Like siblings, always dashing somewhere, running aimlessly after each other.

They laughed when they caught each other, tumbling on the palace lawns, racing by the Antehe River. No particular day stood out from those countless memories.

But for Actor, that day was ‘some’ day. Pherenike realized that during that moment he spoke of his half-brother, his voice was almost as calm as a straight line.